Pretty Lights
by Lacanthrope
Summary: Got to watch out for those drifting space clouds of existential angst. That stuff will mess you up.
1. Pop Quiz

There were so many stars.

It startled him at first, seeing all the flaring lights suspended in the distance. It wasn't like he'd never seen them before. Earth's night skies were littered with them, but they were cold and distant.

Not like these stars. These were the real ones, the ones he had sacrificed so much to fight for. But this was the first time he'd ever really looked at them. Looked at them and realized how small everything was. All that time spent staring into screens of long numbers and test scores when he could have been looking at the stars. No atmosphere, no smog to hide them, just the crisp, clean emptiness of space between him and them.

These stars were distant, but they weren't cold.

"_CC to Reliant, your life support is failing-"_

Maybe his mother was looking at the same stars right now, wondering where her son was in all of this vastness. His father was probably in a press conference.

Maybe if he just-

"_Abel, say something you-"_

-held his hand in front of it, he could hold it all between his fingers. Hold the light in his hands to stop the darkness creeping into the corners of his vision. His hands were floating somewhere beside his head, but they were still too heavy. Even in zero-gravity, everything was too heavy.

"_-better not be fucking dea-"_

Instead of his hands floating in front of the stars, small spheres of deep red drifted into his vision and blocked out entire galaxies. Like little planets. Shards of glass followed close behind, magnifying and shrinking the stars as they followed the momentum of the bullets.

An entire universe in his cabin.

"_All enemy craft neutralized. CC to Reliant, medics are inbound on your position-"_

If only the glass of the cockpit wasn't shattered he'd be able to see everything.

"_-taking too long. Fuck your medics-"_

Maybe his father was right; Earthlings didn't belong out here at the edge of space. They belonged in the neon lights and the overstimulation. But facing absolute nothing was terrifying beautiful. Maybe the next time his father looked in a mirror he'd know the same feeling.

He coughed, a wet sound rattling up his throat. Flecks of red splattered across the inside of his helmet, blocking out most of the stars.

"_-don't move, I'm coming around. If you fucking die, I'm going to-"_

Maybe a nice, soft job in an office would have suited him better. One where he spent all day in the company of people that smiled too wide and nodded too much. People that never looked up at night.

A shadow passed over the outside of the cabin and the hatch drifted open. The light from the distant stars passed around Cain's black flight suit, creating a false dawn around his silhouette.

"_Holy shit Abel-"_

Cain grabbed his shoulder straps and shook them frantically, sending the floating orbs of blood spinning into the dark corners of his vision.

"_Why the hell did you turn you idiot?! What the fuck-"_

Cain's head blocked out the stars but the universe above reflected off of his visor. Swirling masses of stars. Absolutely fascinating.

The low-oxygen warning blinked to life in the corner of his visor.

"_Shitshitshitshit-"_

There were a lot of things he could have done, should have done, but they didn't matter. Here were the stars and that's what mattered.

"_Don't you fucking close your eyes you-"_

"_Abel?! ABEL?!"_

**A/N: **Oh dear, it seems Abel has piloted himself right down an existential worm hole. Got to watch out for them; the plague of the space age! More as this story develops.


	2. Make You Feel

There was a time when he had fallen down the staircase in his house. His feet hadn't quite matched the angle of the stairs and suddenly the ground had disappeared beneath his feet. The entire scene unfolded in complete silence, the only sound was of his wrists snapping as they connected with the stairs.

He didn't remember his mother screaming or the driver running to the car with his tiny broken body. But he did remember the chandelier looming over him at the bottom of the staircase; all three-hundred and sixty bulbs staring at him with unblinking eyes. And he had stared back, realizing that the chandelier hadn't even trembled when his body cracked into the ground.

He hadn't thought of home in a very long time.

Abel's eyes curled open and a grey ceiling loomed over him. No chandelier or stars, just cracks in the paint. He blinked lazily a few times, adjusting to the soft light of the room. He wasn't home, but he was somewhere just as familiar. A muted rumble ran through the walls and he could feel a slight tremor in his skin. The same frequency as the Sleipnir.

He propped his elbows underneath him and slowly rose to a sitting position, the IV needle in his wrist sliding around under his skin. The room shifted around him and he almost retched from all of the blood pounding against his skin. It took a few deep breaths before the room righted itself again.

A soft light emitted from the surface he was sitting on, casting a harsh shadow against his skin. He swung his legs over the side of the hard shelf, the room spinning around his head again. He cradled his head in his hands. The last thing he remembered was starlight and screaming. Who had been screaming? Might have been Cain, but Abel didn't think Cain was even capable of creating a noise like that. A person had to be emotionally-invested to scream.

He drew in a deep breath and sat up straight, keeping his eyes shut to stop the room from spinning too much. It was almost like he was back in the Reliant and everything was going horribly, horribly wrong. Red lights and Cain yelling something about a Colteron. Then the starlight and screaming.

His eyes snapped open. Nothing but trembling silence and soft light stared back.

He drew in a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. These kind of things happened during war, he just hadn't expected it to happen to him. The one good thing about being at the edge of space was his father wasn't around to gloat about how right he had been. Abel looked around the unfamiliar room, trying to figure out where he might be. There were only a few places he hadn't been on the ship yet: the brig, the fighter's floor, the medical bay, the-. The medical bay.

He looked down at his body, the stale fear rising up again. Two legs, two arms and everything still in the right place. But something wasn't right with his skin. He traced his fingers over his bare chest, the pads of his fingers running over lines of faint scar tissue. Just like a star system. The lines hadn't been there before though. He checked both his shoulders, noting the six tiny marks on either one. Remnants from a Rapid Regeneration Cell.

Only the half-dead or dying causalities were put in those.

Abel's stomach curled underneath his heart as the memory flooded back. The red floating in front of the stars. They had been shot down. He shivered and wrapped his arms around his thin, bare body. Cain would kill him.

The door slid opened and a wave of noise crashed into the room. Abel flinched backwards, the sound driving its way into his skull. Just as soon as it had appeared, the sound disappeared with the muted click of the closing door. Standing in front of the door was a man in an off-white uniform, staring at Abel from behind his glass tablet.

"Hello Abel."

Abel managed a weak smile and he tried to cover his bare chest with his arms. The IV drip and hospital briefs didn't really do a good enough job of it.

"H-hi?"

His own broken voice surprised him. It sounded so weak. The man walked further into the room, his boots barely making a sound on the floor. He stood over Abel, his eyes hooded and tired. He reminded Abel of his father.

"How are you feeling?"

The man's eyes rolled over Abel's body and Abel tightened his crossed arms. The man's eyes were too big, no doubt from the thick glasses.

"Fine, I-I guess."

The man turned back to his tablet.

"Good. Just a few tests and you're free to go."

The man shined a few lights in Abel's eyes and poked and prodded his skin. There was something about the man Abel didn't like. It was almost as if someone has chosen his eyes from a jar on a shelf and popped them into his eye sockets. The man flicked his fingers across the glass tablet all the while, barely offering Abel a glance. He tugged the IV needle out of Abel's wrist and finally looked down at Abel.

"You've healed up nicely. Come back in a week for a check-up, but for now you're free to go."

"Healed?"

One of the man's eyebrows twitched upwards.

"Yes. You were in an RRC for four days. You're lucky the shots went clean through you."

Abel shivered. He certainly didn't feel lucky.

"Oh."

"Anything else?"

Abel bit his lip. There were hundreds of questions he wanted to ask, but the man looked like he was about to light him on fire with his eyes. No time for care during a war. Only one question really seemed important even though Abel knew it shouldn't be.

"What happened to my fighter? Cain, his name is Cain."

The man's eyes narrowed and Abel thought he was actually going to burst into flames.

"He's fine."

The man offered Abel a curt nod and turned to press the door open. The sound of panic and slipping time crashed into the room again. Abel ground his teeth together, trying to holding off slapping his hands over his ears. The last battle must not have gone very well. His stomach churned at the thought.

The man paused and turned back to Abel, an annoyed but thoughtful look on his face.

"Try not to get shot down next time; I don't think any of my staff want to deal with that fighter of yours again."

Then the door clicked shut behind the man, leaving Abel wide-eyed and horrified. He almost retched again but managed to keep his composure. Four days of Cain being left to his own devices was definitely not a good thing. It wasn't exactly like anything Abel said to him really dented too far into his skull anyways, but sometimes Abel could talk him down from doing something completely reckless. The guy was like an Id with a smirk and broad shoulders. A blush rose on Abel's features before he could stop it.

Abel cradled his face in his hands again, shaking his head.

He sat like that until someone brought him clothes and shooed him outside the room so another unconscious person could be wheeled into it. They were missing both their legs and all Abel could do was stare with wide eyes, his thoughts drifting back to the red and the stars. His skin crawled over his bones and he backed away, tripping over his feet. Everyone knew these things happened during a war, but every time he repeated the words to himself they only became hollower.

Abel shivered and left out of the side entrance of the medical bay.

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for all the support so far fellow fiction enthusiasts! Hope this does what its supposed to do.


	3. City of One

Abel stood in front of his door, staring hard at the gray surface. Bits of light pooled across the metal like stars and something tightened in his chest. All he had to do was open the door, walk in and pretend everything was fine. Best case scenario, Cain would probably say a few nasty things and then they'd move on with their lives. Worst case scenario, Cain would beat the shit out of him. Abel chewed his lip. Not exactly ideal situations but it wasn't like their relationship, or whatever it was, was functional in the first place.

He brought his hand up to the control. People had been shooting him strange looks the entire way back to his room, like they all knew something awful that he didn't. Like they all knew what was waiting behind the door. His hand halted over the interface. But this was his room, not just Cain's, and he had every right to go inside and try to piece himself back together in privacy. Abel's fingers pressed the door open.

A thick cloud of darkness and stale cigarette smoke rolled out to greet him. Abel covered his mouth and tried not to retch. Cain and his stupid cigarettes. Abel's hand fumbled for the vent control and a whirl of fan blades started to clear the room.

But there was no Cain, just the remains of his cigarette smoke. Abel stepped further into the room. The ash tray was clogged with cigarette butts, a few burn marks surrounding the dish. Their one and only chair lay on its side behind their bed. All four of its legs were bent at odd angles to match the dents in the wall. Abel sighed and dropped himself on their bed. He had spent the entire way back here psyching himself up, but leave it to Cain to not even be here. Probably off smirking and scheming Abel's demise from some dark corner of the Sleipnir. It wasn't like Cain had ever _really_ hurt him, but there was always a shadow of implied violence waiting behind Cain's eyes.

Abel lay back on the bed, staring at the lights on the ceiling. He closed his eyes to avoid the glare of the lights but found stars on the inside of his eyelids. Starlight and screaming. Abel's eyes snapped open and he jolted up. His heart slammed against his ribs and a wave of nausea washed over him. They were just stars, he knew that, but everything was twisted and wrong. They weren't the same stars he'd fought for.

Abel stood and paced on the small square of carpet. If he couldn't close his eyes, then there was no use sitting in here marinating in Cain's cigarette smoke. Maybe he should go find Cain and get everything over with in a public area. Then, provided Abel could actually get to sleep, he wouldn't have to worry about Cain ambushing him the middle of the night.

Abel strode out of the room and stopped in front if the next door over. He sucked in a deep breath, his lungs straining. The team next to them weren't exactly friendly. But Abel had seen Cain chatting with the fighter a few times.

Abel pressed the call button and a soft ping sounded from somewhere behind the door. A few moments later the door slid open and a dark-haired fighter with hooded eyes stared back at Abel. A navigator was sprawled out on the bottom bunk and was watching Abel with equally lazy eyes. The fighter leaned against the door frame with a sneer.

"You lost or something?"

Abel felt his face flush bright red. This was such a bad idea.

"Um, no."

The fighter's eyebrow twitched up.

"What the hell do you want then?"

No wonder Cain was such an asshole if he was surrounded with people like this all day.

"Have you seen Cain around?"

The fighter let out a loud laugh.

"Cain? Nah, nobody has. Not since the idiot got himself thrown in the brig. Fuckin' hilarious though-"

Abel's heart skipped a beat.

"The brig? Why?"

The fighter let out another laugh.

"For being an idiot. Now fuck off, I've got better things to do than talk to his pansy navigator."

The door slid shut in Abel's face. The brig. Cain was in the brig. Abel groaned and rubbed his temples. Of course he was. Probably got into a fight over the last dinner roll and stabbed someone with a fork. Sadly not atypical behavior for Cain.

Abel sighed and walked back to his room. He turned the vents up and sat in the darkness, turning things over in his head. Maybe he could convince a guard to let him see Cain. But he'd need a peace offering if he went to go see him. Abel dug around in the drawers, coming up with a slightly crushed pack of cigarettes. This probably wouldn't work, but anything was better than sitting alone with his own mind right now. Abel tucked the cigarettes into his pocket and headed out the door.

Abel crossed his arms tightly across his chest. He remembered now why he had never been to the brig before. Three fighters stood in the elevator with him, eyeing him up with predatory glares. Abel glared back at them with what he hoped at least looked like a glare. Cain always laughed when Abel glared at him. _You lose your glasses or something?_

"Fighter base level."

The three men offered Abel a final smirk before filing into the dark hallway. The elevator doors slid shut and Abel released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The elevator descended further into the depths of the Sleipnir. So far so good.

The elevator came to a soft halt on the bottom floor and the doors slid open. Darkness sucked at the light spilling from the elevator's soft light.

"Brig."

Abel drew in a deep breath and strode into the darkness. As long as he looked like he knew what he was doing, he'd probably be fine. At least that was what he kept telling himself. As he walked down the hallway the small lights flickered to life overhead and then extinguished as he passed, leaving nothing but darkness behind.

At the end of the corridor was a bored guard staring at Abel with glazed eyes. He tilted his head and looked Abel up and down.

"What are you doing here?"

Abel cleared his throat and tried a nice smile on.

"I'm looking for a fighter named Cain."

The guard's eye brows twitched upwards.

"You his navigator?"

"Yes."

The guard shook his head slowly.

"Well shit. I guess you're here to see him?"

Abel nodded. The guard sighed and stood up. He towered over Abel and cast a heavy shadow over him. Abel shivered and stepped back cautiously. He'd heard a lot of stories that started off like this.

"Unauthorized visits are prohibited, but if anyone asks, I didn't let you in here."

"Really?"

It was suspiciously too easy, but the guard seemed more bored than dangerous. The guard punched in a code and the heavy door slid open.

"Don't know how you do it kid, but I admire your tenacity."

Abel stepped past the threshold.

"Thanks?"

The guard smirked and shook his head again.

"He's in three. I normally warn people not to get too close, you're his navigator. You probably know that already."

The door slid shut behind Abel and a strange silence filled his ears. The hum of the Sleipnir was stronger in here and he could feel it thrumming underneath his skin. Nausea churned inside his stomach put he pushed the feeling down. A short corridor lay in front of him with bars the entire length of each wall. It was strange to see something so technologically ancient in a ship like the Sleipnir. Abel padded down the passageway, ignoring the other inmates staring out at him from the darkness.

Three. Abel peered into the cell; spotting Cain's form slumped in a dark corner. He looked so weak and defeated that it disturbed Abel for a moment. Like Cain screaming in his black flight suit. Abel squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. This wasn't the time for a panic attack. His eyes curled open and he focused on Cain.

"Cain?"

Cain's head twitched at the sound but he didn't look up.

"Fuck off."

Abel recoiled and something pinched between his ribs. But it wasn't like he hadn't come all the way down here expecting Cain to run at him with open arms.

"Cain, it's me."

Cain head snapped towards Abel and his eyes widened. Abel couldn't tell if it was anger or just Cain's default face that glared back at him, but it was more intense than he would have liked. Abel offered a hesitant smile to counteract Cain's piercing glare and shook the pack of cigarettes at him.

"Brought you some cigarettes."

Cain rolled onto his feet and closed the distance between them in four sharp steps. His hands snaked through the bars and grabbed Abel's shirt, yanking Abel into the bars. Dark circles had pooled underneath Cain's eyes and they had lost their usual intensity. Just unfocused and tired.

"You little shit."

Definitely not the reaction Abel was hoping for. Cain's face was too close, his breath rolling over Abel's skin. Abel tried to pry Cain's hands loose but he held on tighter.

"Let go of-"

"You're supposed to be dead."

Abel's heart crunched against his lungs. Cain was an asshole, but every time something awful came out of Cain's mouth it always surprised Abel.

"Well I'm not. Let go of me or-"

Cain's lips curled up into an ugly snarl.

"Or what princess? I'm the fighter, you're the navigator. Have you still got that mixed up?"

A few sparks of Cain's old style of anger flashed around his face. Abel pushed down the dread in his chest and placed his hand on Cain's fist. Abel hoped his glare was convincing enough.

"Let go."

Cain's grip tightened and he pulled Abel closer against the bars. The metal ached against the scar tissue traced across Abel's chest but he kept his gaze leveled with Cain's. A strange look crossed Cain's face. Not quite anger, but something Abel couldn't quite identify. An uncomfortable mix of frustration and sadness.

Then it was gone. Cain retracted his face from between the bars and he grabbed the pack of cigarettes out of Abel's grasp. Cain fished out his matches and lit up a cigarette. The smoke drifted through the bars and curled around the light from the ceiling. Abel frowned and crossed his arms.

"You're welcome."

Cain shrugged and took another slow drag of his cigarette.

"Yea yea, how they hell you get in here? Suck the guard's dick or something?"

It was nice to know that getting blown into the vacuum of space hadn't had too much of an effect on Cain.

"No. How did you end up in here? Did they finally catch you assaulting personnel?"

They exchanged glares through the smoky silence. The entire point of coming down here was to deal with Cain's complexes, but the theory was much easier than reality. Cain slumped against the wall and stared at the cigarette smoke curling around his hand.

"Watch your mouth Abel."

His voice wasn't the usual harshness, but so soft Abel barely heard it. Long shadows crossed Cain's face and he suddenly looked a lot older than he should have. Abel bit his lip, wishing he had kept that last remark to himself.

"When do you get out?"

Cain blew more smoke out of his nostrils and watched it drift towards Abel.

"Don't know. Could be in a couple of days."

"A couple of days?! What did you do?"

Cain's eyes snapped up to Abel's and Abel took an instinctual step back. Cain looked different in the shadows, more feral and dangerous than before, but there was a desperate quality to his anger.

"None of your business."

Abel frowned but kept silent. Something was up with Cain and Abel didn't feel like opening a door he wasn't sure he could close. Abel gave a defeated sigh and rubbed his temples.

"Fine-"

The entrance door slid open and the guard shouted into the brig.

"Navigator, ten seconds and you're out!"

Cain snorted and slid down to the floor, smoke swirling around his body. Abel's frown deepened. This wasn't how this was supposed to have gone.

"Navigator, let's go."

Cain sneered, a flash of his canines in the dark. Abel took a few steps towards the exit but paused to look back at Cain slumped in the darkness. All he could think of was the cosmos reflecting off a visor. Abel shivered.

"Cain-"

The sneer flickered into a cruel, vicious smile.

"See you in a couple of days, _navigator_."

Abel pushed his lips into a flat line and stalked towards the exit. He was an idiot to think talking to Cain would get anything done; every time he tried it just left an angry emptiness in his chest. The door slid closed behind him and he could feel the guard's eyes on him. Abel's looked up on him and tried to put a pleasant look on his face but found his muscles weren't moving the way he wanted them to.

"Thanks for letting me in."

The guard shrugged.

"Don't look so crushed kid, you're lucky."

"Lucky?"

The guard chuckled.

"It's not like I wasn't watching you two-"

Abel's eyes widened and he felt a flush of red flood across his face.

"Please don't-"

The guard shook his head, the laughter still in his voice.

"Your fighter almost ripped Bering's arm off when he came down here. Had to knock him out cold just to get him to let go. But I didn't have to do that for you, did I?"

An awkward sensation prickled across Abel's skin. Cain had tried to rip Commander Bering's arm off. Of course he had. How Cain got off on these sorts of things so lightly was more of a mystery than Cain.

"I guess not."

The guard snorted.

"You better get out of here before anyone sees you down here. But trust me when I say you're lucky, navigator."

Abel nodded and tried another smile and found his muscles actually did what he wanted them to. He walked back into the darkness and towards the light of the elevator.

* * *

**A/N:** They must have to calculate the weight-allowance for emotional baggage on starships. Or maybe that's factored into the artificial gravity.  
Hope this is heading in a reasonable direction


	4. Down the Line

Everything but his mind wanted to sleep. Whenever Abel's eyes closed and his mind began to drift towards the darkness of sleep, something would come crawling out of the blackness. It was usually starlight or red flashes of fear, but tonight it was black hands stretching out of the void, grasping at his shoulders and shaking him awake.

Abel's eyes snapped open and the dark of the room pressed down on him. The hands were gone, but not the fear. Trying to sleep with the lights on made everything just a little worse, like starlight hiding behind his eyelids.

Abel slammed his fist down on the empty space beside him and let out a frustrated, tired sigh. It was going to be another long, dark night lying in a cold, empty bed. Normally when he couldn't sleep he'd get some coding done or sneak to the hangar bay and sit on the Reliant and watch the stars drift by. Cook had given him a week out of rotation and no tasks to do; all he was assigned was to sit and rot in his room while everyone else moved on with their inevitably short lives. Stress management they had called it. The medics had given Abel something to help him sleep but the first and last time he had used the strange little pills, he had woken himself up screaming. Part of him was glad that Cain wasn't around to witness it, but there was a more painful part that wished there was something better than an empty bed and his own mind to wake up to.

He let out another exhausted sigh and sat up, feeling his ribs shift beneath his skin. The mess hall wouldn't be open this time of night, but even if it was it wasn't going to do him any good. The sour taste of hydrochloric acid and orange juice still remained between his teeth and tongue.

Abel shuffled his way into the bathroom. When he had swept the shower mist off the mirror this morning, he had almost screamed at the stranger staring back at him. It took him a few moments to realize the gaunt, hollow-eyed thing staring at him was himself. So the lights stayed off.

He gathered his clothes from where he had dropped them in the morning and slid them back on. A shiver ran up his spine as the cool fabric settled on his skin. The sensation was almost pleasurably nauseating. Avoiding looking at his darkened form in the mirror, Abel crept out of the bathroom and to his boots waiting by the door. Crouching, he yanked them on and attempted to stand up, only he found himself floating, the only sensation his fingers in his laces. The darkness curled around his eyes and behind his forehead.

Only when his head pitched into the metal of the door did he snap back into control. Embarrassment flooding his cheeks, Abel rose to his feet using the door to prop himself up. The last time he had spaced out like that he had fallen in an elevator of fighters. Luckily Keeler had been there to hover over him and drag him up. But Abel had caught the looks the fighters over Keeler's shoulder. Predatory and cruel weren't even close.

Abel's fingers pressed the door open and he stepped into the hallway. Lights out had been six hours ago and the guard rotations would probably be more relaxed now. All Abel had to do was avoid running into any and he'd be home free.

The ship was eerily quiet, the only sound coming from the constant hum of the Sleipnir. He didn't know where he was going; only that he couldn't sit in the dark with his mind anymore. There were plenty of places he'd never been on the ship before and plenty of reasons why he hadn't. Cain always came back smelling like sweat and blood when he'd been on the fighter's floor. Abel always pulled him into the shower before he let Cain near. Abel had yet to hear Cain complain, probably because they usually ended up pressed against the wall and sighing into the shower steam.

Instead of a blush creeping across his face, blood pounded against his forehead. Abel stopped and leaned against the wall until the ache had subsided.

He continued along the hallways, his mind drifting further away with each step. He had read somewhere that some kid had kept himself awake for seventeen days for an experiment and by the end of it had begun to hallucinate and click in and out of consciousness. Abel had forgotten to count the days since his release from the medical bay. When Abel had gone for his follow up at the medical bay, they had said his reactions were normal. Every solider goes through a period of shock, but they get over it. They just failed to mention how long it took.

It was when Abel emerged into the hangar bay that his mind clicked back into place. His breath caught in his throat and he stumbled to a halt. Entire galaxies stared back at him through the hangar windows and starlight settled over every surface. Something crawled between his ribs and Abel's legs began to shake. He should have paid more attention to where he was walking. His eyes squeezed shut and his heart lurched in his chest.

All he had to do was walk back into the hallway and he'd be fine. Not completely fine, but further away from the fear. He went to step backwards but found his legs weren't responding. They only felt weak and frozen in place. Abel sucked in a deep breath. Just like when the ship's engines had blown out. Don't panic.

He exhaled slowly and his eyes rolled open to face the eternity of space and stars beyond the windows. The same stale fear curled around his heart but he pushed it to a dark corner of his mind. It was just an infinite expanse of plasma undergoing thermonuclear fusion. He wasn't going to drag himself back into the hallway just so he could have another panic attack the next time he entered the hangar bay. He wouldn't give Cain the satisfaction of hanging that over his head.

Abel's legs moved forward and he found himself creeping through rows of silent ships. They towered over him, but he found he didn't mind. Better than staring out at the stars. He approached the spot where the Reliant usually sat but found another ship in its place. Abel knew they didn't keep damaged ships in the hangar bay. It was bad for morale to see a fellow soldier's blood sprayed across the twisted metal. Having soldiers realize that they were just as likely to be blasted off the map was not how the war machine worked.

Abel drew to a halt at the edge of the hangar bay, just before the floor ended and all that was separating him from the vacuum of space was a thick pane of glass. The fear began to rise inside his chest again but he was determined to keep it down. He placed his hands on the glass, watching the stars flicker underneath the fog of his breath.

His mother had been the one to show him the stars for the first time. They had sat on the top of a frozen hill and she had gathered him up in her arms. She had pointed at the stars and breathed the constellations into his ears. When he had woken up the next morning with a cold, his father had thrown a fit but his mother had just smiled and winked at Abel.

He continued to watch the stars, hoping that she might be out there somewhere and smiling up at them too. It was too late now to go back and tell his parents that they had been right. War wasn't an adventure, a nice little aside in his otherwise plain life. It was cold and uncaring, just like the faces of the medics who hauled corpses out of starfighters so the ship could be recommissioned and recycled for the next team. It was when his fingers began to tremble did he realize he was holding his breath. Abel rested his head against the cool glass and quietly sighed into it. The chill was almost inviting, sending a fevered shiver through his skin.

Abel jolted awake to the sound of voices echoing through his head. He whirled away from his foggy spot on the glass and watched as the mechanics filtered into the hangar bay, chatting loudly amongst themselves. They didn't look his way, either they hadn't noticed him or they decided to ignore him.

Abel padded out of the hangar bay and back into the dark corridors of the ship before they could notice the red flush of his embarrassment. All he needed was someone mentioning to Cook that one of his navigators had been drooling against the glass in the hangar bay.

Abel managed to avoid meeting anyone else in the hallways, deftly avoiding the echoes of footsteps. He couldn't handle the looks that most of the navigators gave him now, like he was a pitiful creature that didn't quite belong anymore. Something similar to the look Cain's creepy fighter friend always gave him.

Abel pressed the call button for the lift. Perhaps he could convince Keeler to let him start up on the new engine configs again, something to distract him from reality for a little while. Something to keep him out of his quarters just in case Cain came back.

The lift's doors slid open.

His automatic step past the threshold stumbled when he realized whose unfocused, dark eyes were staring back at him.

The lift doors slid shut.


	5. Solamente

Four seconds was not a long amount of time. Five seconds was, but not four. There was something about the even, highly-composite nature of that arrangement of seconds that made everything go just that much faster. That's how long it took to readjust a flight trajectory and spin a starfighter 180 degrees. The other navigators did it in five, but that extra second contained everything that mattered.

It was also how long it took Cain's eyes to go from unfocused and tired to narrow and sharp. Abel counted in his head as the muscles contracted and the elevator shuddered into motion. He wasn't quite sure if the nausea crawling over him was from the momentary gap in gravity or how Cain's cigarette smoke curled out from between his teeth and around his sneer.

Either way, Abel's feet stuttered backwards, his heels hitting the closed doors of the lift. Cain lowered his cigarette and flicked the ash onto the floor.

"You're up early, aren't you?"

Cain's voice caught itself at the end of the sentence, cracking into the small space.

Abel stared at him but found that his mouth was suddenly too complicated to use. They stood in silence for a few moments and words passed by Abel's tired mind but he couldn't find a way to string them together. Just sounds and symbols caught in the back of his throat.

Cain's face pinched into a tight glare and he took two steps, his shadow falling over Abel.

"I asked you a question princess."

Instead of trying to find the words, Abel found himself staring into Cain's dark eyes. He could almost see his reflection on their surface. A bar of light fell over Cain's face as his head cocked to the side and Abel's reflection shifted a few degrees. Cain said something else, could have been a question or a threat or anything really, but the words lost themselves somewhere in the air between them.

Abel was brought back to attention by two of Cain's fingers pressing into his chest, cigarette clenched between them.

"-is wrong with you?"

Cain's was right in front of Abel, two points of pressure pushing into the fabric over Abel's skin. Too close too quickly and Abel started away from Cain and his body bumped into the doors at his back. The coldness of the metal soaked through Abel's shirt and sent a wretched shiver through his skin. The dominant feeling whenever Cain was present it seemed.

"L-leave me alone."

Abel wasn't surprised when his voice rattled out of his throat, sounding like it was being filtered through a pile of rocks. The corners of Cain's lips curled upwards. He could smell fear like drops of blood in water.

"Well tell me princess, what's your lazy ass doing up and about so early?"

Most of the oxygen in the room had already been filtered through Cain's cigarette and Abel felt his throat begin to close up. Cain took another drag, pouring a thick cloud of smoke over Abel's face. Abel willed himself not to retch but found his eyes begin to sting and tear.

"Oh wait, I think I've got it-"

Cain snarled and shoved Abel with the flat of his palm. It wasn't the cigarette smoke making Abel's eyes tear anymore but Abel refused to lose it in front of Cain.

"-you've still got that fucked up notion that you're calling the shots. Like you can prance around this ship and do whatever the fuck you want. Isn't that right _princess_?"

The last sentence came out as a hiss slipping out from Cain's teeth, like ruptured oxygen tanks if there was sound in space.

"I said leave me alone."

Even as the words left his mouth, Abel knew they weren't anything else but a waste of oxygen. Cain knew it to.

"Doesn't work like that."

Cain loomed over Abel and a false dawn crawled over his silhouette. Something sparked across the surface of Abel's tired mind and he didn't even cough when his breath hitched in his throat. He didn't struggle when Cain wrapped a hand around his shirt and snarl something straight at his face. He didn't even flinch when the cigarette brushed against his skin and the ash trickled down his shirt.

A few numbers brushed past the fear, not like the binary Abel counted to slow himself down whenever he and Cain kissed, but something else. Cigarette ash was 500C and it was pouring down his shirt.

He couldn't feel it.

A strange, strangled form of laughter was rattling out of Abel's throat before he could stop it. It wasn't the kind Abel was used to, the kind that made everything feel lighter. It just made his head spin and his teeth throb.

Cain flinched and his glare slipped for a moment. Just long enough for Abel to recognize the fear. The harsh light of the elevator washed him out, no longer the feral creature that had been lurking behind the bars in the brig. Just a tired, weary man trying to hold onto something he didn't have anymore.

Then Cain's eyes narrowed and the corner of his lips curled upwards. Cain's hand wrapped tighter around the front of Abel's shirt. He didn't say anything, just stood over Abel and worked his jaw. When the words finally did come, they came out too tight and too strained.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

The momentum of the lift slowed and a light press of gravity weighed down on them. The doors slid open with a gasp. Abel placed his hands over Cain's and looked up into his dark eyes. The overhead lights reflected off Cain's dark irises like small stars. A contained universe glaring straight at him. It would never be as terrifying as the real thing. Not anymore. Cain just hadn't realized it yet. He still thought they were going to make it back. Abel almost let out another laugh but he just smiled instead.

"This is my floor."

Cain recoiled slightly and Abel pried his grip off of his shirt. A desperate anger hung over Cain's face and made him look too old and too real. Abel took a step backwards and turned on his foot. Cain mumbled something before the only sound was of his heavy, hesitant steps.

"Our floor."

**A/N:**  
I decided to spilt the last chapter into separate parts since it was taking so long and you guys have already been so marvellously patient.  
Also used a little creative license with the nerve damage bit, but since losing sensation in both my knees last month, I thought it wasn't too far off the mark.


	6. More Important Than

Their room still looked the same, dark and empty. It smelt the same too with the stale cigarette smoke somewhere underneath it all.

It was to the sound of Cain's four footsteps that Abel stopped. It was the same sudden halt that he had felt when the Reliant had shuddered and there had suddenly been so much glass between the stars. The same halt that his wrists had reached when he had fallen down the stairs such a long time ago.

The overhead lights clicked on and made his pupils dilate too quickly. It was just a room with a bed, a desk, and a broken chair. His feet flinched forwards and he continued on further into the room.

He made it across the room before a wave of nausea curled over him. It ran up his spine and behind his eyes, but instead of sinking to the ground, he placed his hands on the desk. The soft rumble of the Sleipnir ran through his hands and the swirling of the room stilled into the slight vibration under his hands. Just like the pressure of his hands on the control console of the Reliant or the cold granite floor beneath the staircase, all he had to do was hold onto that feeling and everything would be alright.

When the trembling of his hands was less than the sensation under his skin, he lifted his hands off the desk and drew in a deep breath. He was supposed to be over this by now.

"What was that?"

Abel turned to see Cain still standing by the door, his feet barely past the frame. There was only a slight crease under his eyes, not the sharp lines that usually defined his glares.

"Nothing."

Cain stepped past the threshold and pressed the door closed with a brush of fingers instead of the usual fist. Leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms across his chest and stared at Abel with the same strange lines underneath his eyes.

"Sure about that?"

A slight shake began in Abel's hands and he willed himself not to look down at them. Instead he pressed them to his sides and focused on a stain on Cain's shirt. It was the same shade of rust Abel had seen far too many times on Cain's skin after another of his constant late nights. Abel hated that colour.

"You should clean up."

Cain's fingers snapped into fists but he still kept his arms crossed tightly against his chest. Abel remembered the time he had spent the day at a beach, grinding wet rocks against each other until there was nothing left. That was the sound coming out of Cain.

"Yea, I probably should-"

Cain uncrossed his arms and the stain shifted slightly. His shirt wasn't torn so it was probably someone else's blood. Then Cain was glaring at him with the same old lines Abel had grown so used to. They still made him look too old so Abel just stared, hoping they would disappear back into his skin.

"-and maybe you should to."

Cain's eyes were suddenly wide and unfocused, searching for something on Abel's face or maybe in his eyes. Abel wasn't quite sure what it was so he just left everything blank. Maybe Cain could fill it in himself.

"You smell terrible."

There were never any blanks on Cain's face for Abel to fill in. He was always so expressive with his anger, filling everything with deep lines in his skin, marking it out like a map.

"Two weeks in the _shithole_ and that's all you got to say princess?"

He stepped closer but not with his usual tightly-wound steps, but like he was testing the temperature of water before jumping in. He stopped three, not four, steps away from Abel and narrowed his eyes back into a glare. There were a few more stains on Cain's shirt, but they could have been shadows.

"You have blood on your shirt."

Cain stepped closer but he still didn't come close enough to grab Abel's shirt or snarl in his face. Just hovered as close as he could without touching. Cain was such a tactile person, always grabbing at Abel and thinking running his hands over his skin would make Abel understand. Now his hands flexed by his sides and fingered the empty air.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Abel felt his lips twitch. Blood was beginning to thud against his forehead and he desperately wanted to drop onto the bed and pretend to go to sleep. Instead, Abel dragged his gaze up Cain's chest and to his eyes. They weren't as unfocused now, but they had something else in them that Abel would have called fear if it was anyone else. But this was Cain.

"I'm fine."

Cain flinched forward, his hands ghosting over Abel's shoulders then back to his own sides. Then his shoulders sunk in line with his collarbones with a sigh. Cain didn't sigh.

"You're not _'fine'_ Abel."

He said it with such resigned authority that Abel felt something in his chest flare. Like all the times Abel had stared out the window while his parents screamed at each other in the kitchen and he would just watch the rain hit the windows as his fists dug into his thighs.

"How would you know? You haven't even been here."

Cain's eyes widened and the corners of his lips curled.

"Is that what's got you so weird? I wouldn't have been down there if you hadn't been such a fucking idiot."

Abel's hands trembled against his thighs and not matter how hard he pressed them down, they still seemed to shake.

"How it this my fault?"

If tendons shifting underneath skin made an audible noise, it would no doubt be their soundtrack. For now there was the tension in Cain's jaw and lines around his eyes.

"It's always your fault. You're always pulling shit like this."

"Pulling what?"

"_Pulling what-_ like you don't fucking know-"

Abel wanted to say something smart. He wanted to tell Cain that, of course he knew. There was very little he didn't know. He had learned to read at a very young age.

"-you ever think about this shit before you do it? Or do you just have some fucking suicide complex that just _makes_ you do it-"

And then he realized that he didn't. He didn't know why he had woken up alone in medical and every night since, why everyone had been giving him sidelong glances, why there were strange, new lines hanging beneath Cain's eyes that somehow matched the scar tissue across his own chest.

He lifted his hands from his thighs and stared at them as they shook.

Why everything kept spinning long after the Reliant had already turned 180 degrees and Cain was behind the bullets instead of in front of them.

"_Abel."_

Cain looked down at him with his strange eyes, looking like Abel did when he looked out windows and tried not to hate the rain for not being loud enough to drown out everything else. Like Abel on the hangar bay windows, just an outline composed of constellations and light.

Abel found his hands pressing against the stained fabric of Cain's shirt. There was nothing but silence, not even a tremor between his fingers as he spread them across Cain's chest. Instead of the rumble of the Sleipnir there was another faint rhythm beneath Abel's hands that made the room halt its constant spin.

"I'm so tired."

A long silence stretched out between them before Cain shifted and caught the end of Abel's sigh with his own voice.

"I know."

Somehow Abel's face ended up pressed against the shadows on Cain's shirt and it might have been from the his hands being wound so tightly in the fabric or the pressure of Cain's arms across his back, but then he found his eyes closing and there wasn't anything but a soft rhythm and then nothing.

They lay next to each other in the morning, staring up in the cracks on the ceiling and Abel smiled as he ran his hands over his chest and found the lines across his skin were almost shadows. When he flicked his eyes over to Cain and he widened his smile a little more because the lines around Cain's eyes weren't anything but shadows as well.

* * *

**A/N:**  
What the hell is this.

Thanks to everyone for being so wonderful and letting me poison the fandom with my poetic angst prose. This was only supposed to be a one-shot, then I foolishly decided to continue on with it. There was a lot more I wanted to do with this story but damn, if I spent too much more time fidgeting every time I opened this back up, I would have gone insane.

I'll probably try my hand at this again and write something a little different when I get around to posting it on AO3 (all my new stuff is there).  
Hope it was a good read and I'm always open to suggestions for things I can turn into a vortex of introspection and feelings.

p.s- Google the title/chapter names. Do it. Enjoy it.


End file.
